


Foreign Relations

by Arkada



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Electrostimulation, Equally possessive Loki, Equally possessive Tony, Explicit Sexual Content, Jotun!Loki, M/M, Porn with pretensions of plot, Possessive Thor, Public Displays of Affection, Temperature kink, Thor puts the power in power bottom, Threesome - M/M/M, Thunderfrostiron - Freeform, shameless teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/pseuds/Arkada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Loki, Jotunheim's ambassador to Asgard, is cunning, beautiful, knows just how to always get what he wants, and has Thor wrapped around his little finger. That is, all the parts of him that aren't wrapped around Midgard's ambassador, Anthony Stark: brilliant, charming, and flirtatious enough to put Loki to shame.</p><p>Thor knows he shouldn’t allow two foreign ambassadors such sway over Asgard’s heir. But when the rewards are this delicious, he cannot bring himself to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Now there are _two_ Avengers movies I don't own.

Thor is doomed the instant he steps into the banquet hall.

The feast, honoring the anniversary of Asgard’s welcoming of an ambassador from each of the other Realms, is already begun; the tables are so laden they seem to groan under the weight, the benches are filled with laughing men and women, toasting the success of the program, Odin himself is moving among the crowd, greeting each ambassador to personally offer his thanks and congratulations. But Thor sees all this only distantly, as habitually as he might scan a battlefield, taking note of its features without any but the most important holding his attention.

In the very middle of the vast hall is a large space, ringed by the feast tables, where those young enough to enjoy such things - and sober enough to be capable - may dance for all to see. At the moment Thor enters, at the top of the steps above the milling crowd, the single couple dancing captures every fiber of his being.

Loki is resplendent for tonight’s festivities, rubies twined in his long black hair, blue skin bared to the eyes of all Asgard, the leather kilt around his hips jet black and sharply cut. Gold jewelry drips from him, elegant bracelets around his wrists and ankles, rings on his fingers, fine chains draped around his torso in lieu of any tunic or shirt. Thor aches at the sight of him, mouth going dry and cock already stirring. Loki loathes Asgard’s heat bitterly, and far prefers to keep himself well wrapped in furs to prevent it from reaching him; but he knows that Thor adores his skin, the more of it the better, and so it is always a message sent when Loki dresses like this. Thor knows this vision is meant entirely for him, Loki adorned in all that Thor finds most beautiful; the rubies in his hair are the precise shade of Thor’s cape. 

Loki spins his partner in the dance, and Thor’s eyes are torn to that man instead. Anthony Stark smirks, eyes glittering, mouth sly and framed by his perfectly-trimmed beard. He is wearing the most formal of his people’s attire, a black jacket and trousers over a white shirt, cut to flatter every line of his body, almost indecent despite covering him from neck to ankle. He too bears Thor’s colors, in the tie around his neck, and the cufflinks at his wrists; they might have been made by the same jeweler as Loki’s hairpiece, for how well the rubies match. He is shorter than Loki by a hand’s width, but so full of life and verve it hardly seems possible. The mortal can fill any room with his sheer presence - Thor has seen it, entire councils of men a good five dozen times his age falling silent because he wishes it - and he is doing so now, captivating every Asgardian who lays eyes upon him. 

Thor’s favorites are twirling slow and graceful in the Midgardian style, one arm around the other’s waist, free hands laced together and held high. Loki’s gold bracelets gleam brightly against the black of Anthony’s jacket, and Thor could gaze for hours upon the fine blue fingers through the rougher pink ones. He knows well the feelings of those hands, the cool sweep of Loki’s and the thrilling texture of Anthony’s calluses, and though he has not even descended the stairs he already longs for this feast to be over, longs to wrap them both in his arms and take them to bed for the hours they surely must have planned for him. 

But even the prince of Asgard cannot steal away two ambassadors from a feast in their honor, and so he drags himself down into the hall proper, fixed on the pair like a starving man crawling towards a meal.

Loki sees him first, blood-red eyes flickering away from Anthony’s for the briefest moment, and he laughs softly and bows his head to whisper in Anthony’s ear. Thor sees the excited tension in Anthony’s shoulders before Loki chides him for being so obvious, raising the hand around Anthony’s waist to stroke down his spine and make him relax again. Oh, they are most wicked, and they clearly plot against him, but Thor cannot bear not to spring this trap. 

The moment his feet are on the floor he is surrounded by people, joyous slaps on his back and spirited cries, and the mood of the feast infects him and lifts his spirits to share their exhilaration. The success of the ambassadors has been phenomenal so far; thanks to reopening the trade links, Asgard is at her strongest since before Odin’s reign began, and the ambassadors have told Thor of similar benefits to their Realms. At first, he was surprised to find himself equally pleased at that news, but now he understands what it means to swear himself to protect _all_ the Realms.

Thor proffers handclasps and grins of his own, but moves steadily through the crowd; he can no longer see Loki and Anthony, but his awareness of where they are in the room burns like a beacon, drawing him forward. They have offered themselves up to him and he means to claim his prize.

He does stop for Sif, in a flattering feminine gown, her hand hooked through the arm of Anthony’s handsome aide, Steven Rogers. Sif looks as smug as a falcon with fresh prey in its talons. Captain Rogers, on the other hand, looks a little _too_ conscious of the honor Sif does him to actually be enjoying it. Sif smiles and greets Thor with a friendly kiss; Rogers offers his hand for a warrior’s clasp. “Great party, your highness.”

“I should hope you think so, as it is thrown in your name,” Thor says, and leans in to give a little advice, man to man. “I assure you, you will appreciate the Lady Sif’s attentions. Allow her a little more welcome when she bestows them, what do you say?”

Rogers flushes bright red, as if he too seeks to bear Thor’s colors. “I’m just - I’m here with a foreign embassy, is it really appropriate-”

“Trust the lady’s choice. She will not ask for anything you cannot provide,” Thor says, and gives him a lewd wink. “And richly.”

“Right,” Rogers says, slowly, and then, more resolutely, “ _Right._ ” He steps back and settles his hand daringly over Sif’s, nodding thanks to Thor before turning and steering Sif towards one of the tables.

“On Earth, this is the point where I’d offer to get you a drink,” Rogers says. “And maybe after that you’d like to dance?”

Thor doubts Sif will permit Rogers’ civility to last that long. He likely will not see them again tonight.

Or tomorrow, for that matter.

His duties to his friend discharged, Thor continues pushing his way through the crowds, but when he does emerge from the crush of people, his favorites are no longer there.

Thor spins, scanning the room for a flash of blue skin or black suit, gold jewelry or laughing brown eyes. His heart leaps when he sees the right colors, only to look closer and realize that the blue is a man’s tunic, that the eyes belong to a woman glowing with too much wine. Teasing wretches, where are those that are _Thor’s?_

At last he spies Anthony, across the room amidst a group of soldiers from Alfheim, sent to train alongside Asgard’s own in an exchange of skills. This time Thor will not be denied; he marches straight across the hall, eyes fixed on his goal. Anthony is grinning, swapping stories and jests, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and Thor knows him well enough to see the sincerity there. It both gladdens and excites him; where Loki is most beautiful composed and elegant, Anthony is the opposite, finest when unguarded and honest. 

Mid-way through a tale, Anthony raises a hand to make some grand gesture, and from behind Thor gently captures it in his own. 

Anthony spins, eyes narrowed in anger, anger that swiftly melts into pleasure when he sees who holds him. Thor brings Anthony’s hand close and presses a kiss to the warm and racing pulse in his wrist. “May I have a dance?”

Anthony grins, his companions forgotten, and flutters his eyelashes. “Your highness can have anything you damn well please.”

“Oh?” Thor backs away, pulling Anthony with him. “And if I wish you to behave with the decorum befitting an ambassador, and personal favorite of the prince of Asgard?”

Anthony’s grin stretches. “Far as I’m concerned, the first one’s boring, and as for the second one, the appropriate place for me is sucking you off at all times.”

Thor’s cock, already roused by the glorious sights of his lovers tonight, twitches at the mere mention of Anthony’s hot and sinful mouth.

“Is that what you want?” Anthony murmurs, stepping closer. “Want me to get on my knees right here? Oh, no, wait - you asked for a dance. My bad.”

He makes as if to free himself and begin to dance - on his own, in the Asgardian style - but Thor will not have it, and tightens his grip on Anthony’s hand. “No,” he growls. “You slipped away from me once tonight. I will keep you by my side until this damned feast ends and I can have you.”

“Works for me,” Anthony says, smug as if he has gotten exactly what he wanted all along, and turns to press his back into Thor’s chest, tugging Thor’s arm around his body. Thor, pleased, gives a low rumble and dips his head to lick and bite at the tempting curve of neck presented to him above the stiff white collar. 

Anthony hums and settles himself more firmly against Thor’s chest. “Who’s lacking decorum now?”

“You drove me to it, teasing thing,” Thor answers, delivering a light slap to Anthony’s thigh in punishment; he jumps, rocking his ass against Thor’s cock, turning it more into punishment for Thor. Thor calms the raging fire in his blood and asks, “Where is Loki?”

“How should I know?”

“I saw you conspiring together, I know you have made plans,” Thor says. “If you tease, it is because he has set you to it. Or you wish to distract me from something he is plotting. Or else he deliberately stays away, that you might have me to yourself for something _you_ plot.”

“That one’s the closest,” Anthony muses. “But if you want the truth - and I’m going to pay for telling you this later, I just know it - he got hot and had to sit down for a minute.”

Immediately, Thor’s ardor turns to concern. “He is not unwell, is he?”

“Nah,” Anthony says, shaking his head. “Just overheated.” He chuckles, grinds his hips into Thor’s cock again, and offers, “Inflamed with thoughts of you?”

“He is Jotun,” Thor says. “Surely he should be chilled.”

“Ask him yourself.” But Anthony’s voice is suddenly distant, and he pulls away from Thor’s arms. “I’m neglecting my duties, gotta go.”

“Wait-” Thor reaches for him, but he has already been swept up by Philip Coulson, his other aide, and he is directing Anthony swiftly away from Thor. Thor has never liked that man - unlike Anthony, and even Rogers, he is unwilling to relax even for a moment; Thor has never once seen him laugh, or be anything but grim. More displeasing, Coulson is entirely seeking material gains for his realm, and cares nothing for the feelings of friendship Anthony cultivates so well. And he makes Anthony uncomfortable. Were this feast not in the ambassadors’ honor, Thor would go after them and reclaim his favorite, but Anthony spoke true when he mentioned duties.

Thor sighs and resigns himself to an evening of enforced patience and continual adjustments to his armor to prevent his swelled cock from showing.

He turns around and finds himself facing Loki; his spirits lift immediately. “There you are! I have been looking for you.”

“So I see,” Loki says, glancing haughtily after Anthony as if jealous. “You seem to have been utterly inconsolable in your loneliness.”

“Oh, hush,” Thor chides, taking Loki’s arm. The skin beneath his eager fingers is not quite cool enough, and he leads the way towards a section of the hall where he might find Loki a cold drink. “I saw the two of you dancing before. You know yourself as receptive to his charms as I.”

“Mmm.” Loki licks his lips. “For one so few in years, he’s exceedingly talented. Well, I did have to teach him a thing or two to impress you-”

“You did?”

“-but I found him a perfectly capable student.” 

Thor swallows, blood thrumming through his veins at the vision of Loki training Anthony - which trick was it, what teaching did Loki offer? He can suddenly hear Loki’s voice, annoyed and stern, _No, you fool, look him in the eyes and_ then _stroke your cock. Do it again._

“You like this thought, I think,” Loki purrs, pressing himself close against Thor’s side. The cool of his skin sinks through Thor’s ceremonial armor. “You do like watching the two of us together. Almost as much as you like claiming us both, one after the other.”

“You beguile me and you know it,” Thor says, voice rough with lust. “You know me enthralled to your every whim, you and Anthony. Why tease me about it now?”

Loki sighs happily, and leans in to kiss Thor’s cheek. “Because I like to hear you say it.”

Thor should not allow Loki to gloat in his ascendancy over Thor. Thor should not permit Loki, or Anthony, such power in the first place. But he cannot stand the thought of putting them aside, of losing their delightful presences in his bed, one warm, one cool. Neither can he afford to lose the friendship and counsel they offer. He knows they manipulate him into granting favors to their Realms in negotiations, but Thor has also seen Asgard benefit from those favors, and on more than one occasion they have given him vital advice and asked for nothing in return. Deeper than that, he feels that the affection he holds for them is returned, and that they each understand fully that their own Realms must come first. Thor forgives them using him for political gain, as they forgive him if he refuses in the name of protecting Asgard.

Besides, Thor is but the heir; true power lies in his father’s hands and will for quite some time, and neither Loki nor Anthony have ever turned their eyes upon _him_.

The idea pleases Thor, and he sweeps Loki into his embrace. “I am yours,” he murmurs into the shell of Loki’s ear, and feels Loki shudder against him. “Thor of Asgard, on his knees for Loki of Jotunheim, Anthony of Midgard.” He suckles at the gold ring threaded through Loki’s earlobe, and runs his hands over the lovely blue skin bared for him. Loki’s body turns cold with the rush of his blood; Thor grins, and plans to be insufferably smug about this to Anthony later. “You like this thought, I think,” Thor teases, and lets his fingertips settle at the waist of Loki’s kilt, as if there was any possibly he would undress him here. 

Loki laughs, already half-breathless. “And they call _me_ Silvertongue. You are dangerous, Odinson.”

Thor nips at Loki’s ear, summoning a groan. “ _Prince_ Odinson, to one such as you.”

Loki hums interest. “And what am I, in this fantasy where I may not call you as I please? Captured slave? Unwilling husband? A lowly courtesan with aspirations beyond my state?”

“You are well able to defend your title of Silvertongue,” Thor parries, made clumsy by the increasingly insistent throbbing of his cock. Loki’s words are like sparks to dry wood and Thor feels himself burning. “Let me find you a drink,” he says, going back to his original plan, and maneuvers them onward through the thick crowds.

Hours later, Thor feels as though his cock will rip through his breeches if he so much as moves, takes one more look at Anthony, or if Loki shifts his foot another inch. Still under orders to play his part, Anthony is moving up and down the central table where Thor and the other guests of highest honor are seated, exchanging a few words with each person, lingering with any that invite him to stay longer. But he is doing so in between taking morsels of food from passing servers, glancing over at Thor to ensure he is watching, and then slowly and seductively sucking the bites into his mouth. He chews, eyes fluttering closed to focus on the taste, and licks his fingers clean with what seems like far too much enthusiasm. 

And when Thor can tear his attention away from Anthony, Loki takes his chance at torment, seated opposite Thor in perfect decency, making light conversation with those on either side of him. But underneath the table, his leg is outstretched and his foot is solidly settled in Thor’s crotch. Thor is fully hard by now, and every movement he makes seems to drag his cock against Loki’s foot. If he holds motionless for too long, Loki takes care to grind down gently, to slide his foot up and down, to curl his toes and pry beneath Thor’s armor.

Thor almost regrets the day he decided he could handle two vicious tricksters at the same time. He swears he would be doing better if they weren’t constantly in league with each other to ruin him.

But tonight, the final card is his to play.

The hour is late enough that many guests have already retired, and Thor can make his excuses and depart without seeming rude. But this feast is held in the ambassadors’ honor; all of them, including Loki and Anthony, must remain until the end. Thor smiles at those around him and rises, dislodging Loki’s foot mercilessly, and strides away, erection hidden by the way his armor falls.

He can feel Loki’s gaze, vengeful but powerless, on the back of his neck, and he smirks merrily at Anthony as he passes him, equally trapped by an audience of Vanir and Coulson standing guard on his good behavior.

Thor does not see Sif or Rogers as he leaves.

The walk back to his chambers is cruelly long and chafes his cock with every step, but in truth Thor is probably better off making it alone, rather than with one or both of his lovers making it worse. Were they here, by this point he would surely have given up and fucked them both against a wall. Loki can well play the needy slut when it pleases him, and Anthony has no shame at all. But Thor makes it to his chambers without incident, and sets about preparing himself for his lovers to find at long last.

He strips himself of the heavy armor and leather first, and rinses away his sweat with a basin of hot water and a cloth, standing in full view of the doorway in case they happen upon him at this moment. But he is left in peace to dry himself, loose the thin braids holding back the hair around his face, pull the curtains wide to wash the room in the pre-dawn starlight, and spread himself out upon his bed. The thick furs caress his skin, the plump pillows hold his chest and head slightly elevated, so all of him is on display, and he lowers his hand to stroke his cock.

Perfect. But they will have to hurry. They have worked him up enough that he edges close to release just at the simple touch of his own hand.

Eventually he hears footsteps, and then the door flies open. Loki and Anthony tumble through, hands frantic on each other’s clothing, Loki ripping at the buttons holding Anthony’s shirt closed while Anthony strips Loki of his gold finery. Their kiss is so deep they seem to need the other to breathe, and their hips are flush, cocks pressed together with visible hunger.

Thor clears his throat to make them notice him, or at least give up their pretense of ignorance. They stop, eyes opening and flicking Thor’s way with twin expressions of elation.

“Apologies,” Loki says cheekily as Anthony’s hands settle as-if-innocently on his blue back. “We did not know this room was occupied.”

“Damn you both for liars,” Thor says, unable to hide his grin. “I should have you whipped for disrespect.”

Anthony’s eyes gleam. “Ooh, me first!”

“But I do not wish to interrupt this lovely show.” Thor gestures to the pair of them, half-stripped and thoroughly fuckable. “Continue.”

It is pleasing to see the words of a prince of Asgard still carry _some_ weight, as they set once again to devouring the other. Loki’s fingers are quick and skilled, baring Anthony’s skin in but a few more moments; all Anthony need do is tear aside Loki’s kilt and, save for his remaining jewelry, he is fully nude. Loki’s cock, flushed with blood, is a beautiful midnight blue, hard and curving up towards his belly. Anthony’s cock sits nestled in a thatch of trimmed brown curls, dripping at the tip. Each of them is so handsome, Thor can only bear to look away to view the other.

“You are glorious,” he says thickly, and just admitting it out loud makes heat sear through his blood. “Come,” he demands, holding out his arms. “Come, be mine, at last, no more teasing-”

“That’s half the fun,” Anthony protests, slipping onto the bed and resisting not at all when Thor drags him closer and eagerly paws at the curve of his hip, the taut muscle of his buttocks. Anthony is warm and pliant in Thor’s hands, draping an arm and leg over Thor in return, and Thor nuzzles into the arch of his throat and sets to leaving marks that, on the mortal, will show for days. Anthony moans aloud and his hips jerk forward in need.

“Besides, dearest prince,” Loki says, perched at the foot of the bed to watch them as he divests himself of his remaining jewelry, “if we didn’t tease you, whyever would you give in to our demands?”

Thor groans a little and pulls away from Anthony, a touch frustrated that Loki must ruin the night with business. “What is it you want of me this time?”

Anthony shakes his head. “It can wait. I _told_ you that,” he adds with a glare over his shoulder for Loki. “I said, bring it up when he’s all fucked out and _really_ pleased with me.”

Loki raises his hands, his rings catching the light. “I haven’t mentioned anything in particular…”

“Forget it,” Anthony urges Thor, turning his face back towards Anthony’s own with a hand on his cheek. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Distract me,” Thor invites, and leans in with lips parted.

Anthony kisses with fire and passion, surging against Thor and pouring sensation into him. Thor holds him close, throws a leg over Anthony’s hip to keep him there, and slides a hand into his hair to grip tight. The kiss is fierce and Thor’s lips burn with the strength of it, finally satisfying the need he has been feeling all night. He had both of them this morning, Anthony before the council meeting and Loki after, but it might as well have been a lifetime ago. 

Loki himself slinks up the bed, a cool blue presence at Thor’s side, and twines his hand in Thor’s hair, letting the strands run over his fingers. His free hand he sets on Anthony’s head, and pushes him downwards. 

“I want his mouth,” Loki demands, imperious and regal. “Find something else to occupy you.”

“You find something else,” Anthony mutters into Thor’s skin, but he is already moving, trailing kisses down Thor’s throat, soft bites at his chest. He sets his teeth around Thor’s nipple and sucks hard before continuing his path, straight down. Thor’s neglected cock jerks in anticipation.

Loki chuckles, and uses the hand in Thor’s hair to turn his head to a more pleasing angle. Loki’s kiss is a cool, half-fractured thing, lips on Thor’s for the briefest of instants before he exhales a heavy breath, tilts his head just so and offers another touch of lips. His tongue flickers into Thor’s mouth and back again, tapping at his teeth or Thor’s own tongue before retreating, breaking that kiss and beginning another. Loki is still teasing, willful and defiant and Thor sets a hand on the back of his neck to hold him down and make him give what he promises. 

Anthony’s mouth engulfs Thor’s cock without warning and he arches up into two sets of hands with a shout. Anthony laughs around Thor’s cock, sending shudders up his spine, and twirls his tongue around Thor’s length. Loki stretches himself out, pressing against Thor’s side, cool hand roaming his chest while the other remains in Thor’s hair. His kiss is deeper now, with Thor’s grip on him demanding it, yielding to Thor’s mouth and tongue. Loki is even colder inside, perfect counterpoint to the heat of Anthony’s mouth wrapping Thor’s cock. Entwined in his lovers, pleasure soaring, Thor cannot think of any place he would rather be, or any moment he would rather have last forever.

Loki breaks the kiss to breathe frost over Thor’s lips. “Touch me,” he pleads, with a little wriggle of his hips to emphasize the point. Thor smirks and half-indulges him, sliding one hand down Loki’s back to fondle his pert buttocks rather than the cold and hard cock pressed to his hip. He condemns his sly ambassadors for teasing, but in truth he is perfectly capable of playing their game himself.

A long suck of Anthony’s mouth draws Thor’s attention back to his cock, and he cranes his neck and pulls his head away from Loki to watch his mortal. Anthony is decadence personified, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones, hair mussed and face heated, wantonly rolling his hips against the bed as he sucks Thor’s cock. His pink lips are spread shamelessly wide around Thor’s girth, and his head bobs smoothly up and down with skill of long experience. He moans softly every time he breathes in, air swirling around Thor’s cock, and brings a hand up to roll Thor’s balls in his fingers. Thor groans his pleasure and squeezes Loki’s ass, pulling a low keen from him in return. 

Anthony lifts off Thor’s cock and looks up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Can I fuck you, my prince?” he murmurs, low and throaty. “Say I can fuck you.”

Beyond words, Thor nods and spreads his legs, and is rewarded with Anthony’s sharp, hungry smile and a satisfied purr from Loki. He is long past the days when he thought of this as shameful, as yet another indulgence he should not permit, not even for his favorites. Now he can admit to the pleasure he takes in the stretch, in being filled, and watching his partner fall apart above him.

Besides, both Anthony and Loki are skilled lovers, and Thor does not mean to deny himself anything they offer.

Anthony disappears for the few moments it takes him to retrieve the oil Thor keeps by the bed, and returns with his fingers slicked. He is confident, sure of his welcome; two fingers press inside Thor with no hesitation and begin to stretch him open. Thor groans, arching into the pressure and the heat of Anthony’s hand. Loki kisses Thor’s open mouth, tongue thrusting between his lips, and laces his fingers into Thor’s hair.

Anthony works swiftly, the pleasure of preparation incidental rather than deliberate; both he and Thor are too eager for the rest. Soon enough Thor throws one of his legs over Anthony’s shoulder, pulling him close in silent demand for more. Anthony laughs and turns his head to kiss the inside of Thor’s knee, his beard rubbing over Thor’s sensitive skin. Anthony pulls his fingers free, lifts Thor’s hips and lines his cock up without ceremony, resting hot and tantalizing at Thor’s stretched hole.

Loki swallows Thor’s gasp as he is breached, split open on the thickness of Anthony’s cock. The first plunge is slow and deep, Thor’s body yielding to the pressure, little shocks shooting up his spine as he adjusts. Loki hums quiet encouragement into Thor’s mouth, a cool hand stroking his chest to ease the burn of Anthony’s cock piercing him. Through the haze of pleasure Thor hears Anthony moaning, and his hips jerk in response, taking Anthony deeper.

But the position means Loki’s cock is no longer pressed against him, and suddenly Thor’s hand aches for more than the sweet curve of Loki’s buttocks. He tears his mouth away from Loki’s, and grunts, “Oil.”

Anthony groans, and reaches gingerly for the bottle he dropped somewhere in the furs, trying not to shift his cock inside Thor and lose focus on his task. “Couldn’t have asked two minutes ago?”

“Two minutes ago, I did not intend to finger Loki ’til he screams,” Thor says, and takes the bottle from Anthony. “Now I do.”

Loki shivers with delight in Thor’s arm, and wriggles to make Thor’s fingers dip between his round cheeks. Thor laughs, pulls his hand back and slaps Loki’s ass in warning. “Wait for the oil, or you shall regret it.”

“But I want you, my prince,” Loki pleads, as if he were not a prince himself. “Now.”

Above them, Anthony snarls, “I don’t care what you want, if I don’t get to move sometime this century, my dick is going to break off!”

“Indeed?” Loki turns to him with a smug smirk. Thor takes advantage of Loki’s distraction to subtly slick his fingers with the oil. 

“Is your body really so poor and fragile as that?” Loki continues. “Perhaps you should move aside, and let someone with more strength take your position.”

Anthony’s eyes flash. “Excuse me, just because I’m a gentleman and I’m waiting on permission to move! I am literally balls-deep in him right now, I’d like to see you resist this kind of temptation.”

“I will wager I could last _twice_ as long as you-”

Thor silences Loki’s sniping with a finger in his ass; cold flesh wraps him to the knuckle, and Loki shudders against him. Anthony chuckles and pats Thor’s thigh in appreciation. “Nice move.”

Thor smirks, and then clenches down around Anthony’s cock; he is not to escape punishment. Anthony groans, falling forward to curve over Thor’s body, a hand planted in the furs beside Thor’s head. “That is so cheating.”

“Fiend,” Loki gasps agreement. “Fuck him mindless and save us both.”

“Oh no, my Jotun,” Thor growls, and pushes a second finger into Loki’s tight ass. “There will be no saving you. You’ll scream before Anthony finishes me. And as for _him_ …” He squeezes Anthony’s cock again, and rips a choked cry from his throat. “He too shall lose his mind before I.”

“Confident, aren’t you?”

In answer, Thor crooks his fingers and Loki all but dissolves with pleasure, boneless and limp. Thor twists to kiss his black hair, and whisper in his ear. “Count on it.”

Anthony snaps his hips, and Thor jerks with the sudden emptiness, and then the stretch of being filled again; pleasure lances through his veins and pulls his eyelids shut. “Not gonna make it easy for you,” Anthony promises, draws back and plunges deep once more. His cock is slick and hot and hard, and so is his hand when he wraps it around Thor’s cock. There is a long caress of Thor’s slit, pearling with fluid, and Thor shudders as if the touch reaches completely inside him. His whole body is alight with the sense of his lovers, the silk of their skin, the mingled scent of them in the air, Anthony’s heat and Loki’s chill. But he does not mean to surrender to them so easily.

He pumps his fingers in and out of Loki, and brings up his thumb to tease at the furl of muscle stretched tight around them. Loki moans and ruts forward, seeking friction on his cock. He seems to glance off Anthony’s leg where he supports Thor, and whines when it does not satisfy. Thor is relentless, working Loki inside and out, and is rewarded with increasingly desperate sounds wrung from Loki’s lips and cold breath panted against his neck. 

But all the time, Anthony is fucking Thor, deep, slow thrusts meant to break Thor into begging for more. The burn of the stretch has flared into pure pleasure, stoked by the rhythmic slide of Anthony’s cock. Thor is filled again and again, his body giving way and drawing Anthony’s cock in, and then trying to keep him there. The pressure and heat rise up, hazing his mind, reaching to consume him, and bit by bit Thor feels himself falling.

His lovers are falling with him, Anthony losing control of his rhythm, fucking Thor harder and deeper, and Loki crying out wordlessly, entirely consumed by his pleasure and shamelessly pushing down onto Thor’s hand. Thor gives it to him, and more besides, turning his head and capturing Loki’s lips in a kiss. Loki’s cool mouth opens for Thor to devour, and he kisses back, hungry and lustful, a writhing creature of abandon and need. Anthony’s hand pumping Thor’s cock reduces him to little more, the world a blur of bright pleasure he is drowning in. Anthony brings to bear every art at his disposal, milks Thor’s cock with a workman’s skill and precision; his own cock drives both thought and breath from Thor with every thrust. Thor breaks the kiss with Loki to gasp for air and finds his mouth taken by Anthony instead, a brief, intense crush of lips before he too must breathe. 

Loki keens, and shoves his hand down between the crush of their bodies to grip his cock. Thor opens his eyes to watch Loki find his release; his cheeks are flushed dark, blue lips swollen and shining from Thor’s kisses, hair tangled and strands of it sticking to his skin. His eyes are almost shut, slack like he has forgotten about them, the thinnest crescent of blood-red gleaming between his lids. 

“Come for me,” Thor orders, plunging his fingers deep and pressing hard. “Come, my Jotun, my favorite, show me your pleasure-”

“Thor,” Loki cries, hand frantically pumping his cock, “Thor, _Thor!_ ”

Loki comes, all-but screaming Thor’s name, cold streaks of his seed reaching Thor’s hip and thigh. He shudders violently in Thor’s hold with the power of it, and with Thor’s merciless hand working him all through his orgasm and the aftermath. Loki shakes, but his own hand is still at his cock, drawing out every last instant of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Thor murmurs, and Loki whimpers at his voice. “Go on, you can take it.”

Loki’s hips roll back into Thor’s hand a few more times, slowly, before he falls limp. Thor removes his fingers at once, as careful and smooth as he can; Loki stiffens a little, but kisses Thor’s shoulder in forgiveness right after. “Thor,” he breathes, pulls his arm from between their bodies, and drapes it over Thor’s chest, making himself comfortable. Fingers wet with seed caress Thor’s side.

A harsh jerk of Thor’s cock pulls him back to Anthony, yet leaning over him, cock buried deep. He went still, while Thor tended to Loki; now the moment of respite is over. “Your turn,” Anthony growls, and cracks his hips hard; there will be bruises on Thor’s mortal come morning. But the smack of Anthony’s hips against his buttocks is entirely pleasure to Thor, all rush and feeling, and the heat of Anthony’s cock filling him again and again. Orgasm builds like stormclouds, thick and threatening to burst, and Thor can feel the storm’s charge running under his skin.

He grins up at Anthony and lets it out.

“Oh, fuck, that’s _definitely_ cheating-”

The sparks swirl and surge down to where Anthony’s cock is buried in him, striking him silent. Lightning pulses in them both, white and bright and burning away everything else. Anthony comes first, hips slamming deep one last time, cock spurting into Thor. The hot slick feel of it pooling inside him drives Thor to the edge, and a squeeze of his cock sends him over. 

He comes hard, pleasure breaking like a wave, balls drawn up tight as his seed shoots from him. Every throbbing beat of Thor’s heart seems to make the pleasure stronger, release hitting him all over again. There is a weight on his chest as he breathes; when the fog lifts a little he sees it is Anthony, collapsed onto him, heedless of the fact he is also lying on Loki’s arm. Thor shifts a little to settle Anthony better, making the head of Anthony’s cock slip from him. His stretched, loose muscles protest at the emptiness, but Thor barely notices, the sensation merely adding a thrill to the background feeling of bliss. His two favorites in his arms, all three of them sweaty and spent, _and_ Thor’s promises kept… Truly, if this moment never ended Thor would be content.

Loki stirs, and turns his head towards Anthony’s. “ _Now_ can we discuss your vital matter?”

That does cast a shadow over Thor’s mood, the reminder that he must pay the price for their presences in his bed. He sighs, and curls his arm around Anthony’s back. “Aye. What is it you want?”

“It’s really nothing,” Anthony insists, with all the remaining strength he has. “Just - I’ve had a year to bring Earth to the table, and I’m… not doing good enough. The people who sent me are… they’re not happy with me, let’s say that. It’s looking like I’m gonna be out of a job in the next couple days.” 

“What?” Thor demands, and Loki’s head shoots up, alert and shocked. “Do you mean to say-”

“Come on,” Anthony scoffs, dismissive as if he cares not, but he turns his head so he doesn’t have to look at Thor or Loki. “Only on _Firefly_ can a whore be an ambassador. We all know Coulson and Steve are doing all the real work, I’m just screwing around and making Earth look bad. I’m not here to party and drink and - I’m a walking, talking, prince-fucking embarrassment to my entire planet. Coulson caught me out earlier, flirting with you instead of doing anything worthwhile, and apparently that’s the last straw. Soon as he reports back to Fury-”

“No.” Simple as that, Thor holds Anthony tighter, Loki pulling his arm free to permit it. “I will not have it.”

“Hate to tell you, but you don’t get to pick Earth’s ambassador,” Anthony says, and meets Thor’s eyes with what seems to be a great force of will. “I just wanted to ask for - it’s called a reference, it’s a letter recommending me as an awesome person. Thought it’d be a kick to have when I have to reapply to work for my own company-”

“I _will_ pick Earth’s ambassador, if they would make such damned poor choices themselves! Have they not seen the depth of your service, your dedication to your people? No world could ask for a better representative-” Thor is shouting, and he pulls it back; for those here with him, he feels protectiveness, not anger. “You are a worthy ambassador, Anthony, and I will not see you lost.”

“Yeah, that’s nice and all, but-”

“You surely shall not be punished for sharing my bed. My favorite will not be insulted, I shall strike them down myself if they dare!”

Loki clears his throat. “Might I suggest a better idea?”

“At once!”

Loki slips elegantly from the bed and crosses the room to Thor’s desk, rarely used. He searches until he finds a sheet of paper, a pen, and a hard tablet to write on. “Sit up. I may need you to think.”

Thor scowls at him, as it requires dislodging Anthony, but props himself up against the headboard. Anthony makes as if to slip away, and Thor catches him and drags him across the bed, securing him with one arm around his waist. “You are going _nowhere_.”

Anthony settles back into his proper place at Thor’s side half-reluctantly, but he does not speak a word of protest, and so Thor does not release him. Loki seats himself at Thor’s desk, completely ignoring his nakedness, sharpens Thor’s pen and cuts his hand to add his blood to the ink. It is a Jotun custom, one Thor admires. Loki does not write these words lightly; they truly come from the heart.

“It is worth noting,” Loki says as he stirs the blooded ink, “that you _do_ have influence over Midgard’s choice of ambassador. Something which these mortal fools who think they command _our_ Anthony need reminding.” 

He fills the pen and begins writing, movements fluid. “The ambassadors were agreed upon and named in the treaty of alliance. To replace an ambassador now, without agreement from all parties, would be tantamount to violating that treaty. Should Midgard remove Anthony from his position, they would destroy Asgard’s goodwill towards them, and find themselves once more a pathetic little world without friends or protectors among any of the Realms. Why, if the offense were perceived to be great enough, it could invite war. Midgard should think _very_ carefully before they even suggest Anthony’s departure. However - tell me, Thor, were the ambassadors’ aides named in this treaty?”

Thor grins. “They were not.”

“Indeed? How strange,” Loki says, feigning surprise. “That would mean that should an aide prove displeasing, such as one publicly slandering the prince of Asgard’s favorite, _they_ could be sent home at once without consequence. And furthermore, seeking to remove an ambassador, and thus violate the treaty, could well constitute treason. Mr. Coulson should be warned of such before he steps too far on his present course.”

Loki finishes writing with a flourish, and waves his hand above the paper, magically copying the text onto another page. He brings the two letters and the pen over to Thor for his signature. 

Anthony shakes his head. “You don’t have to go to bat for me-”

Thor signs his name and title gladly, twice over, and smiles down at Anthony.

“It is done.”

Anthony looks almost uncomfortable. “Why are you-”

“You are worthy of this post, my friend. And I want you to stay here. With me.”

“ _Us_ ,” Loki adds, and folds the letters with savage precision, as if thinking of cutting someone’s throat with them. “One for Coulson, to remind him of his place, and one for Midgard’s leaders. I shall see them delivered come morning.”

Anthony huffs as Loki sets the letters down on Thor’s desk, and returns to their bed. “I _was_ trying to go out gracefully.”

“Certainly not,” Loki says. “You should make them suffer who seek to bring you down, and climb back up over their corpses.”

“Bloodthirsty Jotun,” Thor chuckles, and tugs him close with his free arm. Loki cuddles up sweetly, especially by comparison with his tone, and reaches out for Anthony’s hand. 

Anthony gives it to him, and, strangely vulnerable, asks, “I _am_ doing a good job here, right? It’s not just you having a thing for my ass?”

Thor opens his mouth to assure him of his great value, but Loki gets there first. “The others speak of your good humor and dedication with respect and admiration. Those of smaller Realms have noted that you always ask them to speak up and be heard, and that you listen to them as closely as you do to Asgard or Alfheim. Coulson is wrong when he says you waste your time in drinking or telling tales; your friendship would be missed by many if you left, and all favor for Midgard would be lost with it. It is a challenging task you have been presented, to speak for a world that has no previous presence and little history among us, and you do it magnificently. Do not let that damned fool make you think otherwise. Don’t you dare let him make you _choose_ to leave.”

Anthony is grinning as if holding back tears. “Guess I’m staying, then.”

Awash with relief, Thor cannot speak for a moment, but pulls Anthony close and kisses his hair in joy, and then Loki’s in thanks. The mood lightened, he adds, “But do not mistake me. I think your ass very fine indeed.”

Anthony snorts laughter and wiggles his hips, clearly inviting a grope that Thor is only too glad to provide. Anthony’s flesh is warm and fills his hand perfectly. Loki, not to be cheated of his due, presses closer still and pillows his head on Thor’s chest, cool skin and sleek hair. 

“You wanna know the real reason I wanted that reference?” Anthony asks softly. “So I’d have something to remind me how good this was.”

“Next time someone threatens you, _kill them,_ ” Loki says sharply, though in his particular way that sounds affectionate. “Don’t just give in.” And, quieter, “Don’t just _leave_.”

Anthony squeezes Loki’s hand. “Coulson told me I was ruining Earth’s chances out here, okay? I was trying to save the world.”

“And that is why you must stay,” Thor says. “Next time someone threatens you, or any of us, we will face them together.”

“And kill them.”

“ _Loki!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Haldane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Haldane/pseuds/Haldane) for the beta!
> 
> My tumblr is still [here](http://ao3-arkada.tumblr.com/) if you're looking for it.


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